The July floods in Eastern Kentucky that devastated communities also tried to erase part of the area’s history. Audio tapes stored at Appalshop were soaked with floodwaters and later covered with mold.
Appalshop has been salvaging what they can, and have been digitizing some of the gems they have unearthed. This is an expensive process, so donations to Appalshop are always appreciated.
Today Appalshop released the excerpt above that features Chester Cornett being interviewed by Elizabeth Barret. In the interview, Chester gripes about what all furniture makers complain about – how difficult it is to make a living selling handmade furniture. It’s worth your three minutes.
The Whitesburg, Ky., Appalshop building (center) following the late July 2022 floods. Credit: Appalshop staff via Smithsonian Magazine
The early title leader for my upcoming book about Appalachian chairmakers was “Backwoods Chairs,” but I’m now leaning toward “Upwards into the Mountains.” The decision needs to happen soon because my book is nearing the final stages. The search is complete (thank you to those who sent me names and leads after my previous blog posts about the project [post 1, post 2]), the interviews and visits have all happened and the narrative is written. I’m currently editing, adding the photography and working through the chair builds.
As a first-time author I’ve come to recognize two things: 1) I enjoy the process of writing a book and 2) I’m slow at it. But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel at this point.
I’m working toward having the manuscript to Lost Art Press this fall.
Late last week I reached out to Eastern Kentucky chairmaker Terry Ratliff (he’s among those featured in the upcoming book) about a teaching opportunity. That was before I was aware of the severe flooding to hit communities in eastern Kentucky and southwestern Virginia. I followed up with a text to Ratliff to wish him well. He was at a local lutherie shop on the main street in Hindman, Ky., at the time, scraping the thick mud off anything salvageable in the bench room. He relayed the overwhelming mess he saw all around him.
The School of Luthiery in downtown Hindman after the floodwaters receded. Credit: Zoe Oldham
Once the waters receded the full impact and devastation became apparent. The floodwater climbed higher than any time on record in some places. In the charming mountain town of Whitesburg, Ky., near the Virginia border, the North Fork Kentucky River rose more than 20′.
For those unfamiliar with the terrain of eastern Kentucky, there are lower lying, narrow bands of land between the rocky, rugged knobs and mountains. The lower land frequently has a creek or river running through it. Heavy rains funnel into these waterways – this time more than ever before. This was deemed a “once in a millenia” storm: water over rooftops, refrigerators caught up in treetops, homes carried downriver and significant loss of life.
An environmental tragedy immediately became a human tragedy. Entire communities were slammed in the storm. The tight-knit Kentucky towns of Jackson, Neon, Hindman, Whitesburg and Hazard, among more rural other places, were hit hard.
There’s also an impact on the cultural centers within the mountains. The Hindman Settlement School and the Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Company are digging out, working to salvage as much as possible. At Appalshop, an Appalachian cultural archive and media center in downtown Whitesburg, a crew works to recover soiled materials before they deteriorate. Those in the community collect what’s floated away.
Clean-up efforts at Appalshop. Credit: Justin Skeens
From an article in Smithsonian Magazine: “‘Some of the film from Appalshop was all through the streets and everything,’ Austin Caudill, a Whitesburg resident, tells the Lexington Herald-Leader’s Billl Estep and Austin Horn. ‘We could lose not just businesses but history.’”
Why mention this here?
Because below I share my travels to Whitesburg in April, 2021, to photograph and study Chester Cornett’s “Appalshop chair.” And because the affected communities are home to a group of eastern Kentucky chairmakers, both past and present. The floods impact Terry Ratliff’s community (while also hitting those of the late Sherman Wooton (Hyden) and Chester Cornett (Perry County). And because within Appalachia, more than any other place I’ve lived or visited, the strands of craft, community, people and place are all tightly woven together.
But most importantly, these communities need immediate resources to aid in stabilization, recovery and rebuilding. There are opportunities to help.
Now to the unicorn that is the “Appalshop Chair,” created by the visionary chairmaker Chester Cornett (visionary: as in some of his chairs came to him in visions and dreams), crafted during the recording of the 1981 Appalshop film “Hand Carved.” Appalshop then purchased the chair. It resides in their archives. I do not know its condition after the flood.
Cornett working on a low bench, in a photo from the Appalshop archives.
It was unusually cold for April, with flurries in the afternoon. No leaves on the trees just yet. The North Fork Kentucky River ran low and quiet beside Appalshop’s building.
I traveled to Whitesburg to visit Cornett’s chair. I’d wanted to see it in person since reading Michael Owen Jones’s book “Craftsman of the Cumberlands.” In it, Jones shares a photograph of the 13-slat double-rocker, making mention that this was the last chair Cornett built, meaning this was the culmination of Cornett’s fabled and prolific chairmaking career, the pinnacle of his skills and final iteration of his making choices. I hoped to study it myself and photograph it for my book.
The Appalshop chair from the back.
The archivist met me at our arranged time. Wearing white gloves, she brought the rocker out of storage. My first impression was how solid and substantial the piece looks in person. Each chair part was shaped with the drawknife before being scraped smooth. Cornett added an extra-special touch to this piece before applying his mystery concoction of finishing oils. He stayed up all night before final filming to add a little “old-timeyness” to the chair by scorching it with a Coleman campfire burner to create a mottled effect. The initial impression by those who witnessed the chair the following day was best described as “aghast.” The scorching has mellowed over time. It’s most noticeable on the back slats.
Filmmakers Herb Smith and Elizabeth Barrett with Cornett’s Appalshop Chair.
I was delighted when Elizabeth Barrett and Herb Smith joined us to talk about their time working with Cornett. They are the filmmakers behind “Hand Carved,” and continue to work with Appalshop 30+ years later. It was their skill and insight that brought about the film. Near the end of the recording process, they realized the chair was something special – something Appalshop should own and preserve. They found the money to make it happen (not the easiest thing to do; creative rural organizations are not known for deep pockets) and it’s lived within Appalshop ever since.
While the chair has always resided with Appalshop, it has not lived a life of ease. Terry Ratliff shared that, years back, he was asked to repair the piece. A summer intern’s dog gnawed on one of the rockers. A rung had worked loose. The chair was a fixture in the staff meetings and was available for everyday rocking. Ratliff, who holds Cornett in high esteem and knows the specialness of the piece, suggested the chair receive a more protected status.
Functionally, the double rocker is not a comfortable chair. The sitter must spread their legs or sit cross-legged to avoid the middle posts. The front rungs rake against the sitter’s calves if they’re not careful.
The underside of the Appalshop Chair.
It was not made for comfort; it was made for attention and to earn a decent price for the labor needed to make it. During my visit, someone at Appalshop shared a memory of Cornett carrying his chairs to Hazard on a Friday, setting up beside a busy road to sell them, and him still being there – with his chairs – into Sunday afternoon. He made beautiful, traditional chairs but there was little local market for them. This pressure pushed him toward new ideas, in hopes of recognition and higher income. If people didn’t want his gorgeous traditional rockers, maybe a double rocker would catch their attention. Though it didn’t work exactly as Cornett intended, he began making more fantastical chairs which garnered him increased recognition (including in Jones’ book), though it did not fully alleviate his financial situation.
Photos from the Appalshop archives of Cornett’s chairs. At center is Cornett working on a double rocker.
A few details: The Appalshop double-rocker is 47″ tall overall, with the seat at 17″ from the floor; it’s 18″ deep overall at the seat (not including the rockers). It’s made of sweet gum, with (likely) hickory rungs and a hickory bark seat. The writing on the slats:
Chester
Hand Carved
For the fiming
The Appleshop
Moviey Caled
Check the Chiremaker
Direxed buy
Heirb Smith
Elizabeth Barret
President Applshop
Pine Mountin Wood
Mad I.N. N. OV. A, DEC 1977
With Our Lords Help
Scholars debate whether Cornett was an artist or a traditional craftsperson. Being the last of his illustrious career, this chair would fall on the “art” side of Cornett’s creative timeline. But that debate doesn’t interest me all that much.
The left arm.
I’m drawn in by the form, the silhouette that appears compact, well-proportioned and balanced when glancing at the rocker from across the room. It’s hefty but not grotesque. Confusing maybe, but I’ve visited the form enough times to enjoy its uniqueness. Move closer to it and the intricate, tightly woven seat becomes apparent, along with scraped surfaces and the octagonal posts and rungs that became a defining characteristic of Cornett’s work. But I’m most drawn to the carved pegs and the drawknife work – details that are only noticeable on close examination, and that elevate the rocker because of the skill and the time involved and the commitment of the maker. These details are noticeably irregular, because Cornett was human and handwork is not perfect.
With Chester’s chairs, there is incredible beauty found in the imperfections.
I have been stuck in a little too deep on peasant furniture and have forgotten to announce this: I am presenting at Colonial Williamsburg’s 26th annual “Working Wood in the 18th Century” conference Jan. 25-28.
This year’s theme is “By the Book,” and it will focus on the relationship between the printed word and woodworking. I was asked to give a presentation on the history of woodworking books (one of my favorite topics), and I’ll also do a demonstration on using M. Hulot’s workbench for chairmaking operations.
Hulot’s bench is so ubiquitous among chairmakers that even Chester Cornett in Eastern Kentucky worked on one. And it is still used today.
Also Lost Art Press-related, Whitney B. Miller, author of “Henry Boyd’s Freedom Bed” will present a talk on Henry Boyd and the development of his life story into a children’s book.
Of course, the conference schedule is packed with demonstrations by top-notch woodworkers and carpenters, and I am excited to be able to sit in on many of the presentations. Check out the list here. I’m particularly excited to see Harold Caldwell, Mary Herbert and Shelby Christensen’s presentation on Joseph Moxon’s techniques in his section on carpentry.
In-person registration for the event closes tomorrow at midnight. So make a decision in the clutch and make the trip if you can. Register here.
If you register or already registered, please leave a comment below. If there are enough Lost Art Press readers going, perhaps we can organize a happy hour or a meet-up during the conference.
I hope to see you there. This is my first visit to Colonial Williamsburg (really!), so be gentle.
The working cover for Andy Glenn’s book – If all goes well this week, it will go to press by Friday. The chair shown here is by Terry Ratliff, of Floyd County, Kentucky.
The copy editing changes are done, the interior design is locked down and we’re almost done with the dust jacket (the front of its current incarnation is shown above). We have a few last questions to sort, then “Backwoods Chairmakers: In Search of the Appalachian Ladderback Chairmaker,” by Andrew D. Glenn, will be off to press (click on the title to sign up to be notified when the book is available).
Below is an introduction by Andy to some of the makers of Appalachian ladderbacks covered in the book, and a look at their work. (To read Andy’s previous posts on the book, click here.)
– Fitz
While working on “Backwoods Chairmakers” for the past four years, the questions I’ve most frequently been asked are: “What is an Appalachian ladderback chair?” and “Are the makers passing it along?”
What is it? An Appalachian ladderback often has posts that bend backward above the seat, with a woven seat (hickory bark is common) and minimal ornamentation. That’s a common definition, but it fails to recognize the variation and creativity within the tradition, as you’ll see from the chairs presented here.
Is it being passed on? That question requires a more nuanced response. The chairmakers are sharing their knowledge, both with family and with those interested. A major challenge is the market for handmade chairs. I visited chairmakers who shared that chairmaking pointed towards a better life for earlier generations of their family. That’s not always the case today, with health insurance, a living wage and retirement to consider.
Every chairmaker’s situation is unique (as are their chairs). Each of them entered chairmaking, or continued in the family tradition, for their own reasons. I share some of those stories in “BackwoodsChairmakers.” And that’s all a maker can do – share their knowledge. It’s out of their hands at that point. The next generation must find the way to carry things forward.
What follows is a sample of Appalachian chairmakers and opportunities to connect with them or their work. Some are more public and accessible than others.
Brian Boggs, “Berea Chair.” Chair characteristics: Cherry. Bent back posts, and Brian’s chairs utilize rake and splay. The lower rungs pushed up towards the seat on this chair. Hickory bark seat. Louis Cahill Photography
Brian Boggs. Brian makes high-end chairs and custom furniture in Asheville, North Carolina. He started his chairmaking career with the Jennie Alexander chair and a small set of hand tools. The Berea Chair, shown here, is a beautiful, contemporary design. While Brian no longer makes or teaches this chair, Jeff Lefkowitz and David Douyard both run classes on this form, as do Eric Cannizzaro and Mark Hicks. \You can find Brian’s work at www.brianboggschairmakers.com and he shares tips and techniques at boggsbench.com.
Cannon County, Tennessee, rocking chair. Chair characteristics: Maple. Turned posts. Dry hickory dowel rungs. Pinned slats for the seat.
The chairs of Cannon County, Tennessee. These are cottage-industry chairs, with each chairmaker working from home in a mechanized, production-oriented shop. There are a handful of chairs on display at The Arts Center of Cannon County. One chairmaker in Cannon County has a website, Ronnie Smith of Mountain Chairs.
James Cooper rocking chair. Chair characteristics: Oak. Split and shaved. Straight back posts. Hickory seat.
James Cooper. James, who left chairmaking in the 1990s and is now an artist, says he “will be the fifth generation to be put in the family plot,” which is on a Jackson County, Kentucky, ridge a short distance from his homestead.
Tom Donahey rockers, displayed at a doll show. Chair Characteristics: Bent posts. Rocker blades. Paper cord seats.
Tom Donahey. Tom shares his experience with those around Brasstown, North Carolina. His YouTube channel, Chairman Tom, is his way of reaching others with shavehorse and chairmaking knowledge.
Michael Houston working on a rocking chair, from some years back. Michael’s current chairs often use exotic woods or include metalwork, and he developed a more ergonomic design for the hickory seats.
Michael Houston. Michael says he “caught the tail end of old-time culture in eastern Kentucky.” He’s lived in Colorado since 1994, and carries parts of that eastern Kentucky mountain culture with him today. You can see more of his work at Michael Houston Custom Furniture.
Chester Cornett three-slat side chair. Chair characteristics: Chester’s chair parts are octagonal and he used woven hickory seats. He also added delicately carved pegs to his fancier chairs. The example shown has tapered posts. He found the narrow foot would damage linoleum floors, so later examples have a reverse flare at the bottom, making a larger pad that didn’t poke holes in flooring.
Chester Cornett (1913-1981). Chester was an eastern Kentucky chairmaker who lived in Cincinnati during the last 10 years of his life. He made beautiful traditional chairs before making eye-catching rockers. A few of his chairs are available to view at the Kentucky Folk Art Center in Morehead, Kentucky.
Mark Newberry, sitting in a rocker he made, alongside rocking chairs made by his father and grandfather.
Newberry & Sons‘ Chairs. The Newberrys, of Red Boiling Springs, Tennessee, turn their chairs at the lathe and harvest hickory bark. I believe they are the largest commercial provider of hickory bark; they sell it directly to chairmakers (you can find ordering information on the website).
Mason Alexander rocking chair. Chair characteristics: Often with straight backs and straight slats. Joints are pinned. Hickory seat. All material collected from the Alexander family homestead.
Mason Alexander. Mason has no website or phone number. Those interested in his chairs must travel his Rockcastle County, Kentucky, lane to place an order. Over the years, Mason has helped a number of interested chairmakers, but he said no one stuck with it (perhaps his grandson, Dylan, who helps Mason with the chairs and has made chairs himself, will be the exception).
Randy Ogle side chair. Chair characteristics: Turned posts and rungs. Shown here in walnut with a seagrass seat. Randy will weave seats from corn shucks on request.
Randy Ogle. Randy, of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, is the third generation in his family of chairmakers and furniture makers. He has a shop and showroom on the Craft Loop Road. I recommend visiting when you’re in the vicinity. If you can’t visit in person, visit his website.
Dick Poyner side chair. Chair characteristics: Turned, often with delicate painting on the upper posts and slats. Woven split oak seat. From the collection at Yale University.
Dick Poynor (1802-1882). Dick was a prolific chairmaker, and formerly enslaved person, in Williamson County, Tennessee. He worked with a horse-powered lathe to turn his chair parts. examples of his chairs are in the collections at the Museum of Early Southern Decorative Arts (MESDA) and Yale University. Robell Awake and Charlie Ryland are preparing a show about their research on the work of Dick Poynor for the Center of Craft in Asheville, North Carolina. They are also teaching a Poynor-style chair at Pine Croft in Berea in spring 2024.
Tom Lynch with some of his work. Tom made two styles: a rustic stick chair and a Shaker-style ladderback, with slightly larger turnings and posts that tapered gently larger at the floor. Tom collected and processed the hickory bark for his chair seats.
Tom Lynch. Tom is a retired chairmaker in Rock Cave, West Virginia. Throughout his long career, he taught and wrote articles for woodworking magazines in addition to making chairs. His formal chairs are turned, often in cherry, with an acorn as a finial – a decorative touch that led to his business name, Lucky Acorn Chairs.
Terry Ratliff side chair. Chair characteristics: Split and shaved, with hickory bark. Octagonal parts. Terry’s signature is the wavy rung (a continuous grain piece of wood taken from material near a knot). (See the top of this post as well.)
Terry Ratliff. Terry, an eastern Kentucky chairmaker, utilizes the natural movement in the wood, such as crooks and bends, to produce the unique look of his work. He has been a guest speaker/instructor at GreenWood Wrights’Fest for the past few years, and also teaches at craft schools and at local festivals.
Lyle Wheeler side chair. Chair characteristics: Split and shaved parts, often from red oak, with a woven seat. Lyle’s chairs frequently have a finial atop a straight back post.
Lyle Wheeler. Lyle, of Millers Creek, North Carolina, shows his chairs at a number of craft shows and sheep and wool festivals. He has also taught at the John C. Campbell craft school.
Sherman Wooton rocking chair. Chair characteristics. Sherman’s chairs are shaved with squar-ish parts. They often have large pegs along with a framed back and his seats with double rungs. Both the back and seat are covered with a loose hickory bark weave. His chairs use the trees’ natural bends.
Sherman Wooton (1910-2004). Sherman started making chairs later in life, after returning to his childhood home in Hyden, Kentucky. His chairs are found in private collections and were sold in galleries within Appalachia.
An unknown maker weaving a hickory bark seat. Photo by Warren Brunner.
The following is excerpted from “Backwoods Chairmakers,” by Andrew D. Glenn. Part travelogue, part profile and part how-to, “Backwoods Chairmakers” explores the tradition of the enduring Appalachian ladderback form. Glenn takes you inside the shops of more than 20 makers, with photos and personal interviews about their lives and techniques.
We sat for a moment before deciding what to do. My host and guide, furniture maker Alf Sharp, made the proper choice by staying in the car, which sat in an open yard and was clearly visible in the driveway beside the house. I opened the car door and started toward the front door.
We knew a chairmaker lived nearby. We had just left a visit with Cannon County, Tennessee, chairmaker, and he pointed us in this general direction. He told us another chairmaker lived on this lane. The yard showed all the common characteristics of a chairmaker residing here.
I was met by a large dog as I rounded the corner of the house. Calm and without agitation, he blocked my path to the door. I stood, frozen, in the front yard for a few moments. His vibe made it clear that I should not come any closer. I began slowly backpedaling to the car, looking forward toward the dog yet not into his eyes. I was 50 feet from the car and hoped he would allow me to leave. He followed me on my left side the entire time, a few steps away and without any change in his demeanor, until I found my car door and got back in.
He’d done his job, just as I attempted mine. After a few deep breaths, Alf and I were off again, looking for the next property with a shop around back and timber piled about the yard.
•••
It was the mystery behind it all that first attracted me to these chairs.
Our family had recently moved to Berea, Kentucky, so I could join the college and craft community in the small town in the west-most foothills of Appalachia. When we arrived, we didn’t know much about the place, and we had a significant time of discovery and adjustment.
I went about learning the woodworking traditions of central and eastern Kentucky. Ladderback chairs were a natural interest, and they were abundant. The chairs are staples at flea markets, coffee shops, junk stores, galleries and garage sales. Most were older chairs, sometimes spray painted blue or pink to match a child’s room, yet some were the current work of contemporary chairmakers. Many were mass-manufactured, with bulky proportions and aheavy finish. But interspersed among the forgettable were the idiosyncratic and charming handmade chairs, with drawknife marks evident on the slats and posts. This clue suggested there was once a considerable collection of hand-tool chairmakers in this region. My sense was that they were all gone, but there was no way to know.
Joyful child and Tom Donahey, North Carolina.
Before arriving in Kentucky, I knew the chairs of Chester Cornett: giant, bombastic handmade rockers, along with the charming, well-proportioned settin’ chairs of his youth. Chester worked into the 1970s, shaping his chairs with hand tools and, as his work changed, a small collection of power tools. It wasn’t contemporary work, but it wasn’t in the distant past either. Was it possible that chairmakers still worked this way? Chester lived in poverty while making his chairs decades back, and I figured it’d only gotten tougher to make a living since then.
Eventually, the idea that chairmakers in central Appalachia were still making chairs proved too enticing to ignore. I began asking the long-established craftspeople around town if they knew of any remaining chairmakers. Friend and long-time Berea dulcimer maker Warren May shared his dog-eared Kentucky Guild Craft Festival catalog from 20 years earlier and pointed out the name of an Eastern Kentucky chairmaker. Here was my chance to connect, if the phone number from the 1990s still worked.
I sheepishly called that evening, not even sure what to ask, other than to introduce myself and ask to visit his shop. He generously welcomed me and offered his guest room for an overnight stay.
Randy Ogle of Sevier County, Tennessee, turning a back post in his shop, at the same lathe his father once worked.
A few weeks later I drove east, fully aware of my ignorance, both in making backwoods chairs and mountain culture. I was, however, fully aware of the history of exploitation of the region. People from away – the timber and coal industries especially – took from mountain communities with little regard for its people. They extracted resources and profit, then moved along. Despite this history of abuse by outsiders, the chairmaker welcomed me.
When I arrived, I realized that I’d overdressed. I was immediately given the good-natured nickname “professor” for my association with the college, the pencils in my shirt pocket and my khakis. Then we got down to business and ventured into the woods on the steep mountainside to gather material. I fumbled along as we split and shaped a fallen ash log into chair posts. I lost my footing on the slope and clumsily hacked at the work, instantly huffing and muttering as we drove wedges into the log. I’d built plenty of chairs in the shop, but this required a different skill set.
Though I was out of place, we connected through the language and love of chairs. And that’s precisely where we stayed, sharing stories of chairmaking, asking questions, listening and learning.
I left at dusk the next evening, hoping to find the main road before nightfall. I had built (with substantial help) my first mountain chair.
Mike Angel (right) and Kelly Angel putting a back post into the bending form. Photo by Victor Sizemore.
Once I reached the monotony of highway driving, my mind returned to the events of the last two days. There was an immense beauty to the work that I had not experienced before. The chairmaker, on his ridge, working in the open air as much as in his shop. Life and work intertwined. A deeply held appreciation for the timber and his place within his community.
He took the trees around him and made them into chairs and furniture with a collection of prized hand tools and a couple machines. There was a symmetry and balance to it all.
That first visit was the spark that led to this project.
I wondered if there were enough working ladderback chairmakers around still to write more than a few chapters. A fellow woodworker suggested that I was “chasing ghosts,” and that I might need to resort to writing historical fiction. That was my fear as well, that Appalachian post-and-rung chairmaking was a thing of the past.
While it appears that the roaring flame of traditional Appalachian chairmaking has dwindled, it is in no danger of going out. Gone are the days of multiple chairmakers in every county, providing for the needs of their communities. Yet the old ways are not forgotten. The tradition is not dead. It has adjusted and adapted to the times.
Newberry and Sons Chair Shop (with the open doors) in Red Boiling Springs, Tennessee.
I sought chairmakers who derived income (either part or whole) for their livelihood and who made post-and-rung chairs. The focus is on central Appalachia, though some stories lead far from the region. Most of the makers in this book are still making chairs, or nearing retirement, though there is mention of a couple renowned makers of the past – Dick Poynor and Chester among them.
There are more chairmakers working within central Appalachia than the ones mentioned here; I am confident in that. While I chased down untold leads in the search for chairmakers, there was no way I could follow all of them. The makers are decentralized and disconnected from one another. This leads to beautiful, unique chairs, but it also makes them very hard to find.
It was apparent during the conversations and visits with the chairmakers that this tradition is not nearing extinction. Post-and-rung chairs still have much to offer anyone who wants to build them: a closeness to the land and material, creative expression, a connection to the community, the ability to create a cottage industry – along with doing hard, physical work and the independence that comes from being a craftsperson. Chairmaking, in this way, is more than an occupation. It is a way of life.
It didn’t take a professor to recognize the beauty in it all.
